What Happens to Girls from Tiny Towns Too
by Jay Rease
Summary: Sequel to What Happens to Girls from Tiny Towns.  The recovery.


Title: What Happens to Girls from Tiny Towns Too  
>Author: J Rease<br>Rating: M  
>Summary: Sequel to What Happens to Girls from Tiny Towns. The recovery.<br>Author's Notes: I've been waiting to put up a lot of my stories until they were complete. But then I realized that I could be giving my readers a lot more content.

You are sitting in an orange, hard plastic, chair in an ugly hospital waiting room. You have crescent shaped indentations on your right palm where Quinn squeezed your hand on the drive over. Your mascara is runny on your face, and you're sure you look like shit. Because you were crying too. They took Quinn into a private room with a door, not a curtain, as soon as you got into the emergency bay. News like that traveled fast in Lima; so no one had to ask her too many questions. Judy was en route and you... you don't know what to do now.

Quinn cried silently in the car on the ride to the hospital. When the nurses ushered her into the exam room, she wiped the tears from her face and quietly answered their questions. You already know what happened. You saw the trails of that asshole's fingers; you saw the bite marks down Quinn's thighs. The car was quiet the entire ride there- because everything that needed to be said went unspoken. You just held Quinn's hand and you let her squeeze it as much as she needed to.

"Santana? Santana Lopez?"

You nod at the nurse calling you over to the main desk.

"Ms. Fabray asked for you. She's refusing to cooperate; do you mind joining us in the exam room?"

You nod again and follow the chubby nurse into Quinn's room. Quinn's crossed legs were dangling over the edge of the exam table, her hands twisted in her lap. She was wearing a green medical gown and rubber bottomed socks. Her hair had been pulled from her face with a simple rubber band and the strands that came loose stuck anxiously to the back of her neck.

"Thanks for coming in... My mother won't be here for another hour...she had to find someone to cover for her before she left..." You nod at Quinn, solemnly taking in the people still standing around you in the room. It's extremely awkward, so you wait for Quinn to tell you what to do... where to be. When she finally speaks, she seems to only be talking to you:

"They want to... collect evidence... I let them take pictures, but I... I couldn't...I didn't want them to..." You take Quinn's hand slowly, resting your left elbow on the bed beside her, letting your fingers lace around hers you squeeze her hand with firm support. You nod your head in understanding.

"...Okay. Just hold my hand."

Quinn lets go of your hand momentarily to scoot back on the table. She steadies herself finally and she adjusts into the stirrups. You roll the stool to where Quinn is reclining, and you settle on it. When she's still, she laces her fingers hesitantly in yours. The doctor is snapping on her latex as the nurse pulls a sheet around Quinn's knees. Quinn stares at the ceiling and grits her teeth at the invasion. You look nowhere lower than Quinn's face as you hear the noises. Her eyes gloss over as she continues to stare above her. You wonder why the noises are so loud. You hear something heavy lift off the medical tray that you know is close to the nurse. You hear the buzz of something electric as it hums from different areas, like a hand held metal detector as it's being moved. You hear it click off and you pick up on other things. You can hear the nurse screwing and unscrewing tops off what sounds like glass jars. You watch the tear trail down Quinn's cheek, and you notice when she frantically blinks it away. You hear packages opening. You listen to the squish of something wet and you feel Quinn's hand tighten around yours at the sound of something metal and heavy being lifted from the medical tray. You hear her shallow intake of breath and you feel her entire body tense.

You take a deep breath yourself.

The nurses aren't saying much, you're thankful. You don't think you want to hear the gruesome details of all the damage. You hear something thin being lifted off the table. You hear the crisp cut of medical shears, and you see Quinn bite down on her lower lip and squeeze around the edges of your palm. You cup your other hand on top of hers, and you feel the hot tears sliding down your own face. You bite your own lip and start to tune out the medical instruction the nurse gives about caring for sutures, and you barely register anything other than Quinn nodding her head... and Quinn squeezing her eyes closed at the sound of the word pregnancy. You don't understand how she isn't in shock. You can't really comprehend how she's holding it all together. The room is empty when you snap out of it. The tray is pushed away with a sterile sheet over top of it. You see label wrappers with Quinn's name on it. Last name first, first name last.

You can't think of anything to say that wouldn't come off sounding idiotic. Asking her if she's okay would most likely be the most insensitive thing you can say. You clear your throat and throw caution to the wind.

"Do you need anything?"

She shakes her head, looking in the opposite direction at something insignificant on the wall. But she doesn't unlace her hand from yours. You hope silently that Quinn is strong enough to get through this... because you can't tell if she's already given up.

000 0000 000

He didn't take Terri. He left her in her grocery store and got back on the highway. He'd already made so many mistakes. His paranoia had him tuning in to national news stations as he drove. He hadn't slept since fleeing little Lima. The urge he had for Terri couldn't become a priority. He had to get away before they started looking for him. He'd left evidence. There was semen and hairs and fibers of him all over her; inside of her.

He couldn't get the smell of her out of his nostrils.

It was a cruel reminder that he wouldn't get to have her again. He could never tire of something so divine. But he can't ever see her again. He had to get far away and hide himself for a while. He had to get rid of his car and change his look before anyone saw him or noticed which way he was going.

There was a part of him tugging him back in the direction he'd come from. He'd' felt the pull two miles into the highway stretch. He wish he would have taken more time. The memories he had weren't good enough. He couldn't stand for any more distractions. No matter how tempting they were. He was a sick man. He did horrible things to innocent girls...he had an addiction. And the addict inside him was begging for relapse...

He can't make sense of why she's so important. He had this eager urge to conquer her, to make her yield. Something fierce was behind her hazel eyes and he wanted to take it from her to keep. The thought is sobering. He knows he's wrong. That he's tainted with something immoral and he should try his best for salvation. The guilt eats away at him like a flesh eating bacteria. It was getting harder to differentiate between him and his urges. It's all consuming. The want. He can't think about anything other than the need. It tears him in two. And with the frequency his thoughts are corrupted, he isn't sure he can keep ignoring it.

He's baking in his car, trying not to blink and fall asleep. He almost doesn't hear the alert noises coming from his car radio.

That's a green Cherokee, license plate GXB-4522 Pennsylvania tags. The police have identified a white male, approximately five feet, eleven inches tall with a shaved head. Last seen in a red Phillies baseball cap. Known alias is Justin. Any sightings should be immediately reported to the authorities.

He merges into the nearest exit ramp, deciding quickly to stay away from any tolls or highway speed cameras. He guesses he has less time that he thought.

000 0000 000

There are guys there from the FBI. They have on dark suits and their badges are pinned to their jacket lapels. You don't know how they got there so fast but they beat Judy Fabray. You left the room for Quinn to get dressed five minutes ago, and you bump into Judy somewhere after you see the feds and before you make it to the nurses' station. Her bank teller vest is wrinkled and her hair looks oily in its disheveld bun. She sees you and instantly tears up.

You see her bottom lip begin to quiver as her hands shake around the handle of her purse. She's searching for confirmation in your eyes. You're holding your breath, not sure what kinds of answers she is preparing herself for.

"They only told me that she'd been brought in... Will she be... is she-"

You realize then what she expected. When Judy called you yesterday night asking to speak with Quinn, you couldn't tell her where the former Cheerio was. Judy grunted indignantly about Quinn leaving her car keys inside of her unlocked coupe and told you to call her when you heard from her. When one a.m. rolled around, you got another call. Judy told you that she called the police, citing that she hadn't talked to her daughter since before work that morning, somewhere close to six a.m..

You told her to give you ten minutes and you called everyone mutual in your phone book. When you got a hold of Sam at the motel, he told you that she missed their play date and wouldn't return any of his calls. Since New York, you and Quinn had been closer than before. She seemed to be pulling away, but she'd been better than she has been in a really long time.

When you called Judy back, she told you that she found Quinn's phone in her car and to contact her if anything changes. By the time the next day started, everyone in glee was scouring Lima for the blonde. You hadn't expected to find her. You thought she maybe ran away, but you convinced yourself that this wasn't typical Quinn behavior.

You tried not to worry and you told yourself Quinn would turn up and Judy would stop blowing up your phone. You hadn't expected to find her; especially not the way you did. But when she walked up to you naked and shivering; you realized you'd been afraid someone else would find her dead. Just as Judy was assuming now.

"She's alive. Something really bad happened...but she's alive-"

You're cut off by the older woman as she lunges at you, embracing you in a vice grip and sobbing quietly into your shoulder. Through her muffled cries you hear her thanking God. You pat her awkwardly on the back and wait for her tears to subside. After a few moments, she straightens her back and smooths her shirt, dabbing at her running makeup with a handkercheif she procures from her bag.

You hear Quinn cough behind you, standing on the far side of the female FBI agent. She's wearing scrubs and her eyes look incredibly sunken, her chapped lips are in a grim line as she stares desperately at the floor. Judy excuses herself and they walk quietly down the hall and disappear into another room. You find yourself sitting in an orange plastic chair. You don't want to leave. There is something inside your stomach that's telling you not to leave her side. You don't know what happened wherever she'd been taken to... but something was telling you that you had to be there just in case.

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